Voice of Shadow
'''Outer Ring - Tempest Spire, Crown's Refuge ---- ::As intimidating yet beautiful as its name suggests, Tempest Spire tests the eye's strength with a strenuous squint into the lofty heavens with its height. The interior of the base is fairly vast itself and divided into two pillar-partitioned chambers - an inner and outer. The stone of walls and floor is radiantly pure, a snowy white marble inset with slender, gold veins which, if studied closely, seem to all creep towards the center of the Inner Ring. ::Upon entry into the Spire, one has four choices: to turn and go hence from which they came, turn to left and pace the dark pillar-lined corridors, turn right and mount the black marble staircase which spirals up into the abyss, or step forward into the illusory shining light of the inner ring. The latter option will bear you through four black marble pillars, two on either side, and into the mist-veiled glory of the Inner Ring. ::The Outer Ring is lit by gold sconces on the wall, each designed to look like human hands. Eventually, this ring leads to the opposite side of the entrance (north) where a small alcove has been dug into the marble. In this alcove, measuring roughtly five feet in height, a white marble statue of a dragon stands, surrounded by stout candles in obsidian sconces. ---- Duhnen stands by about where inner ring meets outer ring, lingering about the spire. He holds his arms crossed at his chest, biting lightly at his bottom lip as he stares at the far wall, content to just kind of...be there. Murmur by mutter, a pair of voices haunt outward from the shadows of the upward winding staircase. The rhythmic clunk of boots is pair with a more constant flow of raspy scraping. For those common to this place, the sound is unmistakable - a heavy form of scales grappling with the uneven, stony terrain. "Tell them that Tssshepsi isss grateful, ssshould they accept the tasssk." The hiss becomes more audible the closer they descend, as does the human counterpart of "Of course, My Lady." Attention caught by the unfamiliar sound, Duhnen slowly turns about, molten eyes widened faintly in curiosity. Hands fold behind his lower back in something similar to a soldier at parade rest, even if the rocking on his heels would likely have him drawing harsh words from any superiors. Lurching with a rhythmic 'step' of her own, Tshepsi flanks the crimson-garbed Guard and looks to him with eyes that reflect his breastplate's gleam. The two parade gradually into view. "My thanksss," She nods her horns forward, chin dipping aside to identify the other presences in the tower's belly below. Here in the comfort of her own home, the Archmage is in true Syladris form, her style bordering on anarchy. That is to say, the obligatory vest she's made to wear has been carelessly left open in front, shifting to and fro with her serpentine sway. The remaining guard at the base of the steps barely bats a lash to it, maintaining a forward gaze to encompass any visitors within the rings. Reaching forward, Tshepsi nudges the man gently to the left, out of their way, without so much as actually touching him. Responding to the unseen pressure, the guard slides one foot aside and rearranges his stance to conform with the request. While half-snake is still rather unusual to Duhnen, the lady part isn't anything he's never seen before. And as such, the state of the Archmage's vest doesn't seem to overly rattle the standing Knight, the man waiting quietly as Tshepsi finishes descending the rather tricky stairs. He doesn't move to approach her, seeming rather content to, again, just exist for the moment, seeming to be basking, almost. "I'll spread the word," Bowing his head, the accompanying guard strides for the Tempest's entrance and marches his way outside. Nodding quietly in affirmation to herself, Tshepsi abandons the stairs entirely, one coil at a time in favor of slithering towards the 'basking' aura. "Are you here with the ressst of thossse to come?" She questions aloud, hands finding their place of fidgetdom over her belly. The man's eyebrows furrow somewhat in thought at that. "There were others that were going to come? I didn't know about this," Duhnen responds to her, lifting a hand from behind his back in a greeting gesture, followed by a bow of his head. "Were there plans for something to occur? A gathering of sorts?" "They come to sssearch the landsss beyond our bordersss," Tshepsi nods, arching her shoulders with a deep breath and looking aside to the misting aria. "Or ssso wasss ssspoken. I told them it wasss very beautiful to sssee but that their lawsss would hold no ssstrength, ssso they mussst ressspect the lawsss that nature herssself dictatesss." "The borders of Crown's Refuge? They're going to explore the wildlands?" Duhnen seems rather full of questions at that, though his curiosity is somewhat abated as the inquries turn more to casual conversation. Certainly treks through the Wildlands have become somewhat more common of late, as well. "I've only seen a few locations, myself. I don't have much reason to be out in the wilderness." "It isss nice, sssome of it," yawns the Syladris, rolling out that forked tongue to absently sample the air. Her tail slides about, bringing her nearer to a pillar on which to lean. The marble becomes a rubbing post for the base of her right horn. "Ssso long asss they don't fall down." "What are they out to see?" Duhnen asks, rocking again on his feet as the Archmage scratches herself. "Something worthwhile, I hope, for all the effort involved in going to where-ever they're headed. Had you any desire to go with them?" Tshepsi scoffs lightly to that, ceasing her stone-marring to roll and stretch her neck instead. "Tssshepsi hasss ssseen much of it already. Ssshe goesss when ssshe pleassses. If I go with them then I am sssure they would try to make me follow rulesss." Wrinkling her nose, she settles out of her restlessness and transforms into a slumping statue against the pillar. "Besssides. I am needed here." "That's usually the case," Duhnen sighs at that, looking ceilingward, as it is in the spire, anyway. "On the plus side, what they don't know, they can't complain to you about," he points out, likely from some experience. "I find it somewhat ridiculous, as is, the restrictions they would put upon yourself and I." "But they do complain about the thingsss they don't know - Sssuch asss you and I. The Ssshadow." Pointing a pointy finger at him, she nods sagely. "Becaussse they do not underssstand it, they mussst make rulesss to control it bessst they can. It isss not entirely their fault." "Their idea of how to control it shows they've little appreciation for what it is they're attempting to bind," Duhnen states with a dry sniff. "I don't blame them for not understanding, but I can blame them for inconveniencing me." He could be mildly joking there. Tshepsi smiles faintly, her gaze drifting elsewhere in the room. The torch lights flicker in the wake of her passing stare. "It isss hard, yesss. Hard to remember what partsss of yourssself to let sssleep." Narrowing her focus on the remaining guard, she gnaws contemplatively on her lower lip. Tshepsi smiles faintly, her gaze drifting elsewhere in the room. The torch lights flicker in the wake of her passing stare. "It isss hard, yesss. Hard to remember what partsss of yourssself to let sssleep." Narrowing her focus on the remaining guard, she gnaws contemplatively on her lower lip. "Sssometimes it'sss too noisssy and bothersssome to touch, to lisssten to," Tshepsi states flatly, looking to Duhnen sideways. "I do not asssk more from it than I need, but it isss alwaysss there. Alwaysss here," tapping her ears, she closes her eyes and lets her body sag to the floor, shoulders and head kept propped against the pillar at an awkward angle. "Trying to be here," Displaying her tongue, she shakes her head. "I asssk for it to be sssilent, mossstly." "I had just come from Light's Reach. The silence there is almost unbearable to me," Duhnen answers, voice lowering some as he looks back to the portal. "It's to me as an itch I just can't reach, when I'm there. A shame that so much of importance occurs in the shining city on the hill, hm?" "Wasss it ssshiny?" Tshepsi inquires, arching a nonchalant brow. "I wasss not able to sssee much of it. We left very quickly becaussse asss you sssay, it did not feel right." Stretching her arms lazily over her head, the Syladris lounges in a 3 meter sprawl, tail meandered this way and that between their pillar and the next 'round the perimeter. The Queen of her castle. "It's very...neat. Well put together and ordered," Duhnen answers, blinking to the syladris. "Course, I don't think I've taken the time to fully appreciate the architecture. Nor did I have any plans to do so, soon. They seem to enjoy their white marble, though." He taps his foot on the floor lightly in emphasis, before looking past Tshepsi to the wall. "...you can touch Shadow without bounds, should you chose, yes? My master could do as such, though I've not seen him or her for a very long time." Emerging from the portal's direction is the always battle-ready form of the Grand Master Norran Lomasa, apparently alone for the moment. He carries an idle expression, glancing about the area relatively curiously as he steps outside. "Who isss your massster?" Tshepsi inquires, ignoring the question. Likewise, with eyes yet closed, she fails to acknowledge the emergence of the Grand Massster from her portal. The sound of an armored man moving across marble flooring seems to catch Duhnen's attention, the man turning about towards the portal to regard Norran. "The feet of Fastheld are drawn to the portal tonight," he comments to Tshepsi, waiting for the other man to notice them. When Norran does notice the pair, he doesn't really seem pleased. Infact, he seems quite nearly disappointed as he exhales a deep sigh. Turning about, he makes his way back from whence he came without another word. Curiousity getting the best of her, Tshepsi peeps open one eye and cranes her head around the pillar to watch Norran's silent retreat. "That wasss perhapsss the ssshortessst visssit anyone hasss ever paid to Tssshepsi," She notes softly, only half amused while one of her brows does dip forward with a note of concern. Watching. "He must think we're up to something," Duhnen muses to the Archmage, likewise watching Norran's departure back towards the portal. "Do we look that sinister?" Glancing to Tshepsi, he shrugs mildly, likely already knowing the answer to that question. "He doesssn't, really," A small smile forms on Tshepsi's lips then and she tilts her head aside, finding a better position in which to sleep. Any time is nap time. "Whether he knowsss sssuch or not. But I know." "What do necromatic powers 'feel' like, Tshepsi?" Duhnen asks her abruptly, turning fully to face the settling Syladris. His voice is low, tense with worry, and he watches her intently. "You must know of what I speak of when I ask how it feels." Shifting her weight around again, Tshepsi turns her chin over her shoulder to peer up at him with half-closed lids. "Doesss it trouble you, thisss feeling?" She hisses in turn, rousing her fingers to flex over her belly enough to satisfy an itch. "Or be you sssimply curiousss to know the ssscent of death's breath in your ear?" "I don't feel it now," Duhnen shakes his head a bit, nervousness growing as he subconciously leans in slightly. "But I wonder. And I think. It's in my nature to wonder. Death...it's the ultimate of secrets, is it not? What does that /feel/ like? To hold death? To shape death? Have you ever tried?" "Deep tongue..." Purrs forth a very sharply anunciated word from the Archmage's throat. She inhales noisily through her nostrils and then releases a rattling hiss from somewhere within her chest. The burning flame above their heads bows sharply, though it be well out of her breath's line of fire. "It isss the firssst language Tssshepsi ever ssspoke. It isss the firssst ssshe knew. Until that day - when ssshe awoke. Ssssarathalarax sssaid "sssssssssssssssshh"." Lifting a talon to place gently over her lips, she sighs fondly. "It hurtsss, the ssshadow's tongue doesss. I have usssed it. Many treesss died. The grasss lossst itsss color and wilted into the earth. That isss deep tongue. That isss the sssound of the voicesss that ssseek to sssing Tssshepsi to sssleep each night. But ssshe sssings louder." "The Deep Tongue?" The knight looks only all the more confused, as well as hungered, as he asks that question, as well as the possible answers it could provide. "It hurts you to use it? It...does it drain you, then?" He straightens some, rubbing at his cheek with his palm. "...all Shadow has a price. Of course." "It hurtsss othersss. But is wasss what ssshe had to do be heard by the Drakar'ri from ssso far away. To fool the worssse of evilsss." Behind those closed lashes of snow, tears press angrily in efforts to escape. "Tssshepsi hasss held death. Tassshep hasss causssed it, has tricked life into falling into her handsss when the hunger comesss. It caussses you to feel like nothing, here," Placing a hand over her breast, Tshepsi blinks open her eyes and gazes into something not quite present. "When a ssspirit leavesss thisss world, it makesss room for sssomething elssse to enter. If it isss Ssshadow that sssteals the life away, then it isss Ssshadow that will fill it anew. Empty isss the feeling at firssst and empty isss what you will wisssh it to remain when the darknesss triesss to crawl inssside. But, like all thingsss, death isss sssometimesss necesssary. And the ancient voicesss mussst be heard, if you want /them/ to lisssten to /you/. Sssacrificesss mussst be made." "I've no desire to ever try to defeat death," Duhnen answers, resting his hand on his chest in a mirror action of the other mage's. "But I wish to understand it. There's so much to learn. Always more to find," he confides to her, rubbing at his forehead as if to attempt to chase away an ache. "I've taken life as well, in the past. Sacrifices must always be made, for everything I've gained. It's always been part of myself that was the victim." "But not all of death'sss nearnesss isss bad, not all Ssshadow hasss nasssty outcomesss," Tshepsi volleys, her eyes as dried as stone. "When you choossse your own life'sss energy to take the place of another, the fangsss of Ssshadow can be sated. To heal another and wound yourssself in doing ssso - a trade. Balance isss thusssly kept and in doing ssso, you sssecure the resssult." Lowering her hand to her side where Naoi's blade had once sought to strike, she bows her head in remembrance. "When a man of thisss world watchesss a beassst die, what doesss he sssee? The life, the ssstrength, it all fadesss. Where there wasss power there isss then only stillnesss. The light in the eyesss isss sssmothered by a cloud - that cloud masssks the passsing. That isss all a man sssees. He may feel empty, he may feel sssad, but he doesss not know the ressst of the ssstory. We do, thossse of usss who have ssseen it, who have heard it. We feel it on the windsss, the way that the patterns of light and ssshadow falling from the tree branchesss changesss oh ssso ssslightly. That piece of usss yearnsss to reach out and take what hasss been ssset free." Grasping slowly at the air, Tshepsi demonstrates with solemn expression. "Sssome would not deny the Ssshadow itsss full reign - they live without fear, without knowing pain only becaussse they don't wisssh to acknowledge itsss exissstance. But othersss, Tssshepsi, know that thisss isss wrong. That it isss better to give of one'sss ssself than to take from another. At leassst then, it can be jussstified in the eyesss of the Light." Duhnen dips his head as he listens to her speak, aknowleding her greater knowledge in such things and considering her words for a tense moment, before fixing his attention on her once more. "The Light is something within all. It's a part of someone, and as such, there's no justification to be made but to yourself. The others would never grant justification for anything related to the Shadow. They fear it, and for good reason. They fear us, for good reason." "The Ssshadow may manifessst itssself in our ssselves, but we may ssstill do the Light'sss bidding." Closing her eyes more tightly this time, Tshepsi lapses more closely towards sleep. "All kindsss of Ssshadow's power can have purpossse for the Light when called upon for the right reasssons." "The extent of the Light's purposes I've seen thus far to be nothing more than to harm my people," Duhnen answers, a tinge of bitterness in his voice. "Mages of Shadow in Fastheld are made pariahs, and yet most I've seen have more decency on their worst day than the self-righteous Mages of Light." This note of blasphemy awakens the Syladris enough to jerk her horns forward and glare sternly in his direction, tail livening with a sudden twitch. She hisses, sucking in a breath before forming her words. "Your anger isss misssplaced, Sssemuel," She lifts a finger, pointing a seraphite-flecked talon squarely in his direction. "The Light doesss not govern your city. Persssons do. The Light protectsss, even thossse sssuch asss usss, ssso long asss we ssstrive to be ssso worthy. Do you forget the Ingresss of Sssorren?" "I don't forget it," Duhnen shakes his head, eyeing Tshepsi, apparently still comfortable enough to continue speaking his malcontent. "I know the goodness of the Light. But I also know how easily that goodness is twisted by some of those who claim to follow it to suit their own hatred. It's a dangerous thing to claim to follow something that is all that is Good in and Holy in the world. It means you can do no wrong, for if you follow it, then how could you?" "Everyone ssstumbles once and awhile when they walk," The sinewy ripples through her shoulders and torso relax, permitting her frame to lean back, "Feet do grow tired. One mussst make time to ressst and remember where it isss and why they follow. Otherwissse, yesss, it isss easssy to be blinded with bad light. Jussst like the little girl priessst who thought it would be wissse and jussst to ssslay thisss beassst." Smirking, Tshepsi utters a little snort and folds her arms over her chest. "Not all are capable of underssstanding the ssstructure of the darknesss. To mossst, it isss all equally ssscary." "I'd still like to grab some shoulders and shake a few people," grumbles the Knight, crossing his arms and looking about the spire interior. "You've seen the result of their judgements during your visit." His mouth twists at some thought, the expression lingering, before he shakes his head, attention turning back to the Archmage. "But I seem to have taken us nicely off the original topic." "Not ssso far off," Tshepsi muses speculatively, watching the knight from the corner of her left eye. "The Ssshadow that you desssire to learn more about, to /feel/ more closssely hasss, in thisss moment, learned more about /you/. Asss a creature born from itsss depthsss, I can guesss that it isss pleasssed with itsss findingsss." "The Shadow knows me rather well already, I believe," Duhnen answers, not in a flippant manner, but more sounding as if he's commenting on a general resigned fact. "It knows all who can sense it, and once it finds an open ear, it will gladly whisper to it. It's whispered to me since I was a child." "Every word you ssspeak poorly of the Light, it sssmilesss with glee," Tshepsi says through bared fangs, resembly such a rather dreadful smile. "Asss a child you cannot help but to hear it. It sssang you to sssleep around the noissse of your mother'ssss voice. Alwaysss doesss it whisper to Tssshepsi, but rarely doesss ssshe lisssten." Glancing aside, the Syladri rolls her lips, purses them in silent debate. Her feminine frame lurches forward while the serpentine half snakes aside and gathers fluidly beneath her, lofting her height. She leans forward and whispers more softly. "I can ssshow you how to sssilence it. How to make it quiet in your earsss, how to make it feel forgotten." Duhnen has no immediate response to that, staring up at the rather tall figure as she straightens before him. Finally, "It knows I don't speak badly of Light. But it likely enjoys my harsh words of those it blesses, regardless. I've learned somewhat how to forget it's there. Mostly when I'm with my family. It seems less important, somehow, in their presence. How is it that you push away the whispers?" "The wallsss know," Tshepsi offers rather unhelpfully, an impish smile formed in her eyes, across her nose. "Ssso do the treesss and the sssouls that the wind passses by. They hear it every night." Very carefully, with measured intent, her lips part and tongue recoils to breathe forth a sound (that probably smells a bit like a mixture of earth, bark, and chitter berries). The note is very faint at first but steady, ongoing without breath until it begins to grow in intensity. Well. Singing. He probably didn't overly expect that, but Duhnen isn't displeased by it, the man staring up to her blankly, which doesn't mean much, as all of his looks have been blank for a rather long time. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he begins to rock on his heels anew, listening to the melody chosen by the Archmage. The sound pitches into a haunting lament, notes dropping as swiftly as they rose to border on leaving the human range of hearing. Up it goes again, rising and falling more moderately now into a simple, aimless, track of sound. The sound is pure, nonetheless, echoing flawlessly from the pillars and the walls, filling the cracks of stone, and pressing the leering shadows into their cracks. Less than a minute into it, Tshepsi stops, sucking in a large breath and boasting a full-fledged smile. "Tssshepsi sssings louder than the Ssshadow. Loud enough for the sssky to hear and thossse who dwell in it. Duhnen can't help but smile broadly at that when faced with hers, his hands drawn from his pockets to clap quietly for her in appreciation. "Lovely, Tshepsi. It's obvious you do this nightly. I'd love to hear more, sometime, should you be comfortable enough. It's rare that I'm privledged enough to see people content, even for a short while." Basking in the compliment, Tshepsi beams no shy amount of satisfaction from her eyes, chin projecting farther forward. "You ssshould hear Sssinger sssing. Sssometimes he will sssing to me to make me sssleep, but other timesss we sssing together. It isss very beautiful." From his place at the foot of the stairs, the guard can be seen and heard to chuckle lightly, eyes downcast and head bowed aside in attempts to mask it. "It isss true!" Tshepsi rebukes sharply, whirling about to face the man and rear upwards, chest puffed. In these ways, she is not so unlike the loathed, serpent cousin that lurks in the grass. "You dance to it sssometimesss when you think no one watchesss...but Tssshepsi sssees." Hushed instantly by tht remark, the guard humbly tucks in his chin, feet shifting nervously beneath him. The Fasthelder offers a look to the guard at the brief, slightly amusing confrontation between the pair, smirking some in mild amusement. "Taran doesn't like me very much." A pause at that, before he adds, "And by that, I mean, 'not at all'. In fact, I'd say he rather hates me. He's somewhat of a child, at times." Tilting her head curiously back at Duhnen, Tshepsi wrinkles her nose in disagreement. "He isss not ssso young asss to be a child. He isss a man, I think." Nibbling at a fingernail, the venom within subsides fully and she returns to her former lounging on the floor. "I trussst him. He ssserved asss my eyesss and my voice when I could not be here. He isss very brave." "I'm certain he's quite loyal to those he views as his friends, and of course he's done good things," shrugs the man at that. "He's a man in body, yes, but he's as fitful as my infant son and daughter. I don't hold it against him, though. I don't /require/ everyone to like me." He casts a smile to her. "Neither do I," Tshepsi agrees softly and looks down into her palms. "Which isss good outlook, yesss, after my visssit to Fassstheld. Doesss Grand Massster Norran get angry with you, too?" Duhnen hums quietly at that question. "Yes. He does, and has. We've had our rather strong disagreements, I suppose you could say. He's my brother, by law, you realize. I think we just have rather different outlooks on...everything." "How doesss Law make a brother?" Clearly Tshepsi does /not/ realize, or so sayeth the upturned expression of childlike perplexity on her face. "It makesss a rule sssaying that you mussst ssshare a ssssire?" "I'm wed to his sister. We're related by law, because of it, and not by blood and shared parentage," Duhnen explains, furrowing his brows, as if he doesn't quite seem to know how to explain it either. That, or it's not something he typically spends much time thinking of the technical aspects of. "Ssso..." Tshepsi's expression mirrors his own, the two and a half year old struggling to wrap her head around the concept. "If you are mated to hisss sssissster then he isss mated to you alssso?" "I really hope not," Duhnen laughs at that, reeling a bit at the concept. The horrifing concept. "He's my brother in law. Not husband in law, after all. Next time you're speaking with him, refer to me as his brother and watch his reaction. It's sure to be amusing." Category:Logs